


When Love Blooms

by cc_keb



Series: In Another Life [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flirting, Flowers, Fluff, Herbology, Hidden Depths, M/M, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Teacher Harry, Teacher Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cc_keb/pseuds/cc_keb
Summary: When Harry begins receiving flowers every week shortly after Scorpius Malfoy is enrolled in his class, he is curious and suspicious as to who and why.





	When Love Blooms

**Author's Note:**

> I keep feeling like something is missing or I messed something up on this, but besides that, I really love flower concepts. So please excuse any and all mistakes! (This is number four.)
> 
> White violets mean let's take a chance.
> 
> Variegated tulips mean beautiful eyes.

_**. . .** _

    It had been nearly a decade since Hogwarts, since the war and since Harry had left the wizarding world for a small muggle town. Over the years Harry had managed to keep in contact with most of his old friends. Though admittedly, he really didn’t know much of their lives besides who was paired off with who and whose kids were this and that. Sometimes when he thought about it, he wondered how life could have been, but he had stopped wondering a few years ago. He had made his choice: no Auror-training and no big flashy campaigns. Just Harry and his job as a teacher at a decent-paying muggle school.   
  
   Gently, Harry plucked his glasses from his face to rub at his nose and eyes. Merlin, was he ever tired. Two all-nighters in a row had seemed like such a good idea only thirty-seven hours ago. Huffing to himself Harry peeled his eyes open as they fluttered back down to the binder of those he’d be teaching his semester. Dully, he noted some kids before he turned the page, his eyes instantly meeting a shockingly familiar name.  
 _  
Scorpius Malfoy.  
_  
    Blinking fast Harry shoved his circular glasses back onto his face. There was no way, surely he was merely delusional from lack of sleep! Yes, that had to be the case. Nodding to himself reassuringly he stood from his office chair and wandered into his room. Harry threw himself into bed and tucked his head under a pillow. He refused to let Malfoy get to him after all these years. How come people just couldn’t leave him alone? Harry groaned into his pillow angrily. Silently he forced himself to sleep, dreaming of Malfoy and what he could be up to now.  
  
. . .  
  
    The next few days proved to be just as terrible as the two he had spent without sleep. Harry was constantly distracted to the point he’d spend hours at a time daydreaming of Malfoy and what the child's relation to his school-enemy could be. He hoped he was merely a distant cousin of his, but when his class began to fill he knew it must have been a bit closer of a relation than he had thought. White-blond hair shone under the yellow lights of the class, the child was small and lanky and pale and very much a Malfoy. Harry watched him curiously, as the child’s face mirrored a small awkward smile. Maybe he was a distant relative, Harry didn't remember ever seeing an expression close to a smile from a Malfoy. The closest it got were mocking smirks and the child, Scorpius, seemed more genuinely happy than taunting. Harry shook his head sternly to himself before smiling to greet his class.  
  
    “Sir?”   
  
    Harry looked up and met the mocha eyes of Scorpius.   
  
    “Yes?”   
  
    In the arms of the boy laid a beautifully polished green apple. “This is for you, Father said it’s polite to offer gifts! I hope you like apples. Teachers like apples, right? I would have given you some of father’s flowers, he has a huge garden! But I just wasn’t sure,” he spoke fast yet clear, his shoulders slumped slightly. Harry smiled at him, gently accepting the gift. “Yes, thank you Mister Malf–” Harry stopped talking abruptly when he spotted the confident looking Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. Scorpius took little notice and continued talking.   
  
    “It’s pronounced Malfoy! It’s French for bad faith,” he exclaimed softly. Harry nodded stiffly, his eyes tracing Draco’s form. Silver eyes met his, something flashing in them briefly before he turned away and left the room. Leaving Harry to talk to Scorpius and the rest of his students.  
  
. . .  
  
    Over the course of three weeks, Harry had received three bouquets of anonymous flowers. The first bouquet he received was on the following day of school starting. He had been on lunch and had noticed a few teachers eying him strangely. Uncomfortably Harry made his to the staff room. He was just about to sit and eat his leftover spaghetti when he had noticed his oddly puffy mailbox. Narrowing his emerald eyes he slowly walked over. Almost immediately after undoing the lock on the box multiple purple hyacinths flowed from inside. Harry's mouth hung ajar as he gaped at the flowers. Flowers? Why would someone send him flowers, especially multiple? With a pink stain now covering both of his tan cheeks, he shoved the flowers back inside and locked it again. He’d deal with it later.  
  
    The following Tuesday, Harry received a bouquet of beautiful pink carnations. This time Harry was a bit gentler as he placed them back inside his mailbox. The next day, Scorpius looked at the bouquet of pink flowers on Harry’s desk and smiled, they looked pretty. He’d be sure to tell his father about it.  
  
    It wasn’t until the following week that Harry began to suspect who the sender may be. That week he received ranunculi, a charmingly soft flower. Harry had pondered many times who was sending him all the bouquets, but there was nearly zero evidence. Honestly, who would send him flowers? Harry considered the possibilities, a fellow teacher perhaps? Or maybe–   
  
    “Excuse me.” Startled, Harry tripped to meet the eyes of Malfoy. An amused glint appeared in Malfoy’s silvery gaze as he regarded him with a polite thin-lipped smile. “Hello Mister Malfoy, how can I help you?” Malfoy glanced down briefly to the ranunculi, a soft smirk pulling on his face.   
  
    “Hot date, Potter?”  
  
    Harry’s mouth flopped open while he quickly shook his head no. Scrambling to correct him, he spoke, “no! These are–erm, from a friend.” Malfoy raised a brow but nodded, he was most definitely smirking now. “You do know what ranunculi symbolize, yes?” Harry shook his head no, almost embarrassed. “In a way they are to show romantic interest, directly translating to ‘I am dazzled by your charms.’" Harry's mouth came together in an “o” shape. Blushing he nodded. “Yes, my friend is very flirty,” he mumbled. After giving Harry a short meaningful look, Malfoy nodded and stalked off; leaving Harry to face his embarrassment alone.  
  
    It wasn’t until the very next day Harry made the connection. Had Scorpius not mentioned his father owning a large variety of flowers a few weeks ago? Harry tapped his fingertips against his desk, deep in thought. He didn’t want to believe it, that Malfoy may be related to the flowers. He either knew of the sender, or he was the sender. Harry waited until recess to ask Scorpius a few questions. “Scorpius, you said your father owned a garden?” His eyes lit up as he nodded rapidly. “Yes! He has a store too, it is very big. Father says I can work with him one day if I want!” Harry smiled softly at the boy.   
  
    “That’s lovely,” he exclaimed. Scorpius nodded again and moved on to tell him the name of the store and about his father’s hard work. Scorpius looked around before cupping a hand on the side of his mouth and whispering to Harry loudly. “Don’t tell him I told you but he really loves it there Mister Potter! We had to move away because of the war and since I am a–” Scorpius paused to lowered his voice again, “squib.” Harry’s eyes widened and his heart gave a soft squeeze at the sad look in the child’s eyes. “But it’s okay because father likes his flowers and I like Mister Potter!” He grinned again.   
  
    Some part of Harry deep down was surprised that Malfoy had kept Scorpius, or that he hadn’t at least had a second child to make up for his child’s lack of magic. Then again, he thought, he saw first hand just how much family meant to Malfoy. Otherwise, Harry would have never spoken for him at his trial. Harry spoke to Scorpius for a few more minutes before allowing him to run off to his friends.  
  
    That night, on the way home from work, Harry took notice of the flower shop Malfoy must have owned. It was quite a lovely medium sized building, appearing to have two floors, one for the shop and another for extra supplies or maybe an apartment. When Harry got home, he pressed one of the flowers from the bouquet and firecalled called Neville. When he explained the situation and the flowers Neville groaned. “Oh Harry, isn’t it obvious? Malfoy fancies you.” Harry shook his head no, there was no way. Why would Malfoy like Harry of all people?   
  
    “It would never work,” he reasoned. “Harry, purple hyacinths mean deep sorrow and apologizes, pink carnations stand for thanks and you mentioned Malfoy told you about the ranunculi?” Harry nodded, embarrassed. “So?” he said impassively. Neville gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh Harry, honestly. What would Hermione say if she saw incredibly dense you are. He’s  _courting_  you!”   
  
. . .  
  
    The next morning Malfoy received a bouquet himself, full of white violets with a simple and sweet note attached to the bottom in messy script.  
  
 ** _6pm tomorrow. -HP_  
**  
    Draco smiled and began making preparations for next week's bouquet: Variegated tulips.  
  
  
 ** _2018/8/30 ( ** _#2)_**_**  



End file.
